


Life and Love and Why

by jammeke



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Anachronistic swearing, Angst, Background Het, Background Relationships, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammeke/pseuds/jammeke
Summary: Allan and Robin are in love with Djaq and Marian. It's not working out very well for them, and they turn to each other for physical comfort, no feelings involved. This doesn't work out very well for them either.(Or: an even angstier interpretation of the Allan/Robin dynamic in S1.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is yet another Switchfoot song. You're welcome, Emily (but also: I'm sorry). 
> 
> The main pairing is **Allan/Robin** , but there's mention of Djaq/Will, Allan/Djaq, and Robin/Marian as well.
> 
> This fic takes place between _Brothers in Arms_ and the S1 finale.

"That looks uncomfortable."

One of Gisborne's men had gotten in a lucky hit, and Djaq had told Robin not to use his right arm for at least a week, in case the bone was fractured. That meant no ambushes, no breaking into Vaisey's chambers, no doing anything, really, certainly not shooting arrows at Gisborne's head. Robin had mostly been confined to camp these past few days. In other words, Robin had been a restless little shit.

He was also currently jerking off with his left hand.

"Allan." Robin's hand didn't stop moving. Allan didn't look away.

They both kept at it for a while. It was working, sort of. Slowly. Robin's movements were more elegant than his would be (must be all those years of shooting arrows at people not to mention waving servants over to do his bidding), but still too wonky, too uncontrolled to make it feel good.

"Need a hand with that," Allan said, and what.

It appeared Robin agreed with that articulate assessment. "What?"

Instead of walking away, like a normal person, Allan moved closer. Robin's hand was still clumsily working his dick.

"Look, this hurts my eyes to watch, Robin. Let me help you out. It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just-"

"Yes."

"Yes, I know, or yes, come over here?"

"Yes."

"A'ight." And that's how Allan ended up on his haunches beside Robin's bunk, considering him thoughtfully. There was a flush to Robin's lower face, a light glean of sweat on his face from working himself so hard yet so inadequately. He'd have to sit on Robin's left side if he wanted to do a better job of it. "I'll need to…" he gestured at the back of Robin's bunk.

Robin moved over a little bit, and just like that, Allan was clambering over him.

"Even though I'm pretty sure you meant _yes, come over here_ , I can't help but think you meant _yes, I know_ , too," he said conversationally, putting his hand where his gaze had been waiting for him, resting interestedly for the past few minutes.

Robin's hips bucked up into his touch. "I lived among soldiers for five years. Things happen."

"Ah." Allan gently squeezed the base of Robin's cock, flicking through various options in his head, before settling on careful, tentative strokes. Who knew how Robin liked it. Better start out gently. "You could have asked Much for a hand."

"I could have." Robin's gaze was on Allan's hand, his eyes half-closed, hands twitching by his sides. "He doesn't want to do this."

"He would do it, though."

"I wouldn't ask that of him." Robin's eyes were closed now, his head tipped back against the sack of leafs he called a pillow. He probably missed the goose feathers every day. Allan certainly would. "I wouldn't ask that of someone I care about."

Allan's hand stilled. "Alright then."

"Something you want to say, Allan?"

"No, I see how it is." _Two things: you care about Much but don't actually say that to_ him _like the utter arse you are, and you don't like asking those closest to you to touch your dick. I'm perfect for that sort of thing. Message received_. "You talk to much for someone who's being jerked off." And with that, he moved on to longer, rougher strokes, making Robin's breath hitch. Gentle, Robin could have done himself, even left-handedly. What Allan could give him was more… pressure.

It had to hurt at least a little bit, but Robin didn't seem to mind.

Interesting.

> \- - - >

"I've had my hand on your dick."

"Be that as it may-"

"Stop talking like a fucking nobleman."

"I _am_ a fucking nobleman."

"Not anymore, you're not."

"Well, forgive me for saving your life, Allan."

"Oh, come on, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for Luke and Will and that other guy, and you know it."

"I happen to value people's lives regardless of who they are."

"Yeah, okay. About that loot-"

"No."

> \- - - >

It wasn't that his own arm was hurting or anything. Far from it. But he had calluses on his fingers, and he couldn't seem to find a comfortable position, and it would be nice of someone returned the favour, was all he was saying. He robbed the rich to give to the poor and he'd jerked Robin off and where, exactly, had it gotten him? On his back, in his bunk, trying to scratch an itch that wouldn't disappear, no matter what he tried.

It was a bad idea, anyway. He hadn't gathered any leafs today and he didn't want Much to see anything he wasn't comfortable with when he washed the rags that had been blankets at some point probably.

He was nice like that.

> \- - - >

He'd said he'd _liked her_. That he _thought_ he liked her, really. Will had been the one telling everyone he loved her, not Allan. And yet Robin came to him later that night, with those knowing eyes, handing him a drink.

The arse had almost let Djaq die. Allan told him as much.

"I was… distracted."

"Oh really." He was not in the mood for apologies or explanations. Will was sitting beside Djaq at the fire, hadn't stopped smiling since she'd returned. "If you're here to comfort me, you can stop that right now. I don't need advice from a man who'd let his friends die for some king who sends enough people to their deaths as it is."

"Allan."

Despite himself, he took a sip of the jug Robin had pushed into his hands, because beer. "Go away."

"Marian is marrying him, Allan. Marian is marrying a man who… I wasn't myself. I didn't stop to think, to consider the consequences of what I wasn't doing. All I could think about was that if there was any way I could stop her from marr-"

"You would have sacrificed Djaq for her," Allan repeated, because that hadn't changed, that would never change, no matter what Robin did or said. He'd thought Robin was one of those people who'd sacrifice themselves before they let one of their friends get hurt; one of those noble leaders who'd take an arrow for you without a second thought. It was why he'd listened to him (most of the time). Why he'd followed him.

"Wouldn't you have sacrificed others to keep _her_ safe?"

Allan snorted. "Keep her safe or keep her to myself?"

Robin acknowledged the truth in that by looking away. Typical. "Still," he eventually said, because oh right, Robin wasn't the one on trial here.

Well. "Probably," Allan allowed. He looked down at his drink. "You were supposed to be better than that, though."

It was quiet for a bit. "So you get to be selfish, but I don't?" Robin eventually said.

_Yes_. He took another sip.

A sigh. "Allan-"

"Look, I was stupid, okay? I thought you were different. I didn't understand you, but I respected you." _I trusted you_. "Turns out you're just like any other man. You're just like me. You're just more self-righteous about it."

"That's a big word, Allan."

"That's what you choose to focus on? Of course you do. Why talk about feelings when you can make the people who pry too deeply feel stupid, right. Well, you know what? Fuck that. I'm not Much. You don't get to do that to me. And I'm not interested in prying anyway. You came to me. I don't want to be talking to you right now. Piss off." And of course, because Robin was an entire bag of dicks, he did the opposite of that and actually came closer still.

"You have every right to be angry with me."

"Yes, I do." He wasn't gonna dwell on the fact that Robin had just come pretty darn close to apologising, because he still wasn't in the mood for apologies, and anyway, just because the man made an annoying habit of not admitting to being in the wrong, didn't mean he had to be rewarded for those rare times when he _did_ own up to his mistakes. "Now piss off."

"Alright." Robin raised his hands. He was not winning this battle and becoming aware of it. Good. Those five years in the Holy Land had been good for some things, strategic insight being one of them. "In fairness, I didn't come here to talk. I came to offer you… a hand."

He wasn't being serious. "And why would you do that?" Was this Robin's attempt at making him feel better? Jerking him off? The man really _would_ do anything not to have to talk. The most annoying thing was that Allan could relate to that. He hadn't asked Djaq how she was doing, or feeling, only whether she was hurt. He'd patted her shoulder and grinned at her. Will had been the one to hug her and say the right things, even though the man hardly talked at all, ever. No, scratch all of that, the most annoying thing was that Allan was certain Robin hadn't felt the need to proposition Djaq or any of the others, and so his offer was yet another reminder that Allan was different; that Allan was the only person Robin would do this for; that Robin trusted Allan with physical… closeness? Vulnerability? Only because they weren't close. Christ, but the man was a piece of work.

And then Robin answered, and Allan's stomach must have disappeared, 'cause the beer was spilling everywhere, burning its way through his insides. "Because there is no chance Djaq will pick you."

Anything else he may have forgiven. He was giving Robin a hard time now, sure, but just because Allan was stupid enough to believe he'd found a man who would put his own interests second, who wouldn't stab Allan in the back the moment it suited him, didn't mean he got to hold the man's understandable self-interest against him forever. It was just as well that Robin had shown his true colours at last, really. Good men didn't exist. Allan would have gotten over it, and pretty darn soon too. But this? This he would not accept. This he would not listen to. This dream Robin didn't get to trample all over before stepping back and letting Allan figure out what to do with its dead remains. "Fuck off. _Fuck off_ , you fucking fuckwad!" The jug landed in Robin's face with a satisfying thud, beer spilling everywhere for real this time. Would it hurt Robin as much as it had Allan?

Fortunately, Robin did fuck off before Allan could do something else he'd regret (like apologise), leaving Allan to consider the truth in Robin's worse and lick his proverbial wounds. He really wished he hadn't hurled that beer at Robin's head. Now it was all over the man's face and clothing instead of inside of Allan's body, where it could actually do some good. And also, he-

He maybe should have aimed for his own stupid heart to begin with, instead of the easier target that was Robin's face.

Maybe.

> \- - - >

Things didn't actually change that much, after that unfortunate encounter between Robin's face and Allan's jug. Allan was used to working with thieves and liars, after all, and to be fair, Robin had never told him he was different; Allan had attributed that quality to him himself.

It made sense, too, that he didn't feel as though much had changed. In a way, things has been more different shortly after he'd joined Robin's gang. Robin had tried to save his brother. He'd given him a sense of… belonging. Allan felt more like the Allan from before, now, the one who slept with a hand on his knife, ready to strike out in self-defence. It would be a lie to say that old feeling of camaraderie had disappeared completely. Allan was still happier than he remembered being before he'd decided to take a chance on the noble who'd saved his life twice in one day. He still liked the lads, and would even say he was grateful to the gang for bringing Djaq and Will and John and Robin and, alright, even Much, into his life if he were the kind of person to express gratefulness.

Watching Djaq growing closer to Will wasn't hard exactly. He'd never expected anything to come of his feelings for Djaq in the first place, and so it didn't feel as though he was losing something. The only thing he was losing was the chance at having something good, and wasn't that just his entire life summed up in one sentence.

He never apologised to Robin for throwing beer at his head. Robin didn't try to apologise for giving up on Djaq again. He didn't… approach Allan again either. That was alright with Allan for a while. He didn't need Robin like that. Really. He liked his right hand just fine, thank you very much. Still. He kind of missed the casual aspect of it. The 'oh hey, let me give you a hand with that' thing. No talking. Just touching, and feeling good.

Robin wouldn't approach him again, though, not after Allan's rejection. He'd probably think he was going against Allan's wishes if he did. Nobility really was a pest.

And so Allan went to Robin one night, because he really _could_ do with some release... and also because he wanted Robin to know that just because Robin had been a particular dickwad that night, it didn't mean they couldn't keep doing… that.

Clearing up confusion wouldn't hurt.

On the contrary, it felt spectacular.

> \- - - >

In a not all that surprising turn of events, given everything that had happened in his life since meeting one Robin "where would be the fun in that" of Locksley, Much had turned out to be a nobler noble than any of the actual nobles, Robin included, and Gisborne had almost gotten blown up, which had put Robin in a very happy mood. That was good, because Lambert's death weighed heavily on him. On Marian too.

It was moments like these that made Allan understand, just a little, why Robin continued to seek her out. They did share something… on some… deeper level. Was it love? He was positive Robin must have asked Marian to join his gang, at some point, and to come live with them in the forest. Had Marian, in turn, asked Robin not to be an outlaw, to try things her way? Allan may not be the most observant person, but he was pretty sure he would have noticed if either of them had accepted the other's offer.

Djaq _had_ joined Robin's gang.

Allan honestly didn't know how any man who lived with Djaq could even consider being with another woman, but Robin seemed to respect Djaq without… feeling other things. It was odd, how liking someone made you unable to understand why the rest of the world didn't like them best too.

Will did like Djaq best too.

Allan couldn't even be angry with him for that. Couldn't blame him, really.

> \- - - >

"Will will be back any second," Robin whispered, and Allan chuckled. "What?"

"You said 'will' two times."

"I… certainly did. You are five years old. Only five year olds ridicule people's names."

"Well, I didn't know him when I was five years old. I'm making up for lost time. Anyway, it's his parents' fault for calling him William." Robin's tunic had ridden up slightly. Allan stroked the strip of stomach exposed to him. "If you're taking the next watch, I could come with you."

Robin turned his head in his direction. Allan couldn't make out his eyes in the dark. "I don't think I can, again, tonight."

"Hmm? Oh, me neither." Robin was silent for so long that Allan's hand stilled. "Or, I could just go back to my own bunk. No sense in both of us being tired tomorrow." He made to get up.

"No. Allan." Robin's hand shot out and covered Allan's. His hands were calloused from many years of using people as bow target practice, but his touch was warm and… not unwelcome. "You are welcome to join me."

When Will came back from his pissing break a little bit later, and 'woke' Robin, who yawned too loudly to actually be convincing, God help all of England, if its fate rested on his shoulders, he got up to take over Will's watch.

Allan slipped out of his bunk the moment Will's breathing deepened and joined Robin beside the fire. They didn't speak or touch. They just sat there, together, the flames casting flickering shadows on Robin's face.

> \- - - >

Robin stopped seeking him out at night eventually.

Anyone else might have taken it as a rejection; a sign that he didn't need them anymore.

Allan knew better than that.

> \- - - >

He didn't want to be physically close to Robin, anyway. Perhaps sometimes. After seeing him narrowly dodge a spearhed, for instance. Just. Just to make sure, just to feel that he was still breathing, was still right beside Allan, alive, and ready to roll his eyes at Allan's attempts at archery before shouldering Allan aside and taking his bow and arrows so he could do a better job at shooting their attackers even while he was possibly dying of blood loss.

He didn't want to touch Robin, or kiss him, really. He didn't. Not when they were quietly keeping watch at night, quietly holding each other's gaze over the flickering campfire. Robin had aristocratic features and good teeth. He really did. Allan didn't much care.

When Little John and Robin did not show up in time for supper, though, and when only Robin stumbled into the camp, his face pale and wounded somehow, though there wasn't a visible scratch on him, Allan wanted to bury his fingers in Robin's clothing again, to make sure he was still there, underneath that smelly tunic (which, even after all this time, smelled faintly of lavender still), underneath the grime and dirt.

It was Djaq's lips he fantasised about kissing, Djaq's eyes that made his stomach flip.

It was Robin's voice in the midst of an ambush that he turned to, Robin's form that his eyes checked was still moving when the fighting was done.

> \- - - >

He wasn't angry, or hurt.

He wasn't. 

He understood Robin's choice, perhaps better than anyone.

There really was something to be said, after all, for putting distance between yourself and the people you couldn't afford to be close to, for protecting yourself from the hurt they could cause you - and for doing anything for concepts rather than people you cared about, such as justice. The poor. England. 

Survival. Wealth. 

Robin would understand why Allan was leaving. He had to.

After all, he'd put himself first, first.


End file.
